When I read books, I am often much more interested in make-believe, adorable romance stories that allow me to escape the harshness of reality—otherwise known as the world of fiction. I have never been a fan of reading stories that reveal the harsh truths of our society, as I wanted to escape it, not become more immersed in it. However, when I joined the editing team of The Kudzu Review, I was shoved into the unknown world of nonfiction.
As my time with Kudzu progressed, I found myself enjoying reading the numerous nonfiction submissions. However, I was selective and held high standards for someone not experienced with the genre, which surprised me when I stumbled upon many submissions I enjoyed. This motivated me to explore earlier issues of The Kudzu Review and to continue my newfound curiosity about this genre.
Of course, I started at the beginning: Kudzu Review Spring 2008. From there, I worked my way through time, reading the stories of the students before me, experiencing their words as if I were telling them. As I traveled through time, I found myself stuck in the Fall of 2016. The last story in this issue, titled “Survivor’s Guilt,” trapped me as I desperately tried to escape the pain. But this was more than a simple story; it was a memory. A memory of witnessing a death. A memory of standing helplessly on the sidelines.
This story, written by Hunter Amato, consisted of a glimpse into the mind of a suicidal child. A child who wished he had done it first, so perhaps the one who did wouldn’t have. How after it happened, those who encouraged the child put on masks, masks they would wear in front of the child’s parents. Masks that would say “I’m so sorry” instead of the truth, “Do you have any more children, and any more belts?”
I continued my adventure across time, the remains of tears staining my cheeks.
Another story that caught my eye was published in the Spring of 2019 and told by Amber Bardsley. This piece, titled Safe, explored the reality many girls fear: being sexually harassed. How one could be wearing “a baggy high school soccer shirt…and athletic shorts that [go] to mid-thigh,” yet still face catcalling and being followed home. Or how people in public could surround you, and someone could still come up behind you and touch your body without your consent. How girls are so terrified that anytime we walk past a group of guys alone, we clutch our pepper spray, praying they keep walking. How we think it’s our fault they touched us. That we shouldn’t have worn a dress, or I should have covered my chest. In reality, it doesn’t matter what you wear or how you act. It’s not our fault. It’s just the world we live in, where girls are harassed and feel unsafe wherever they go.
Nonfiction is more than just stories; it’s memories. Memories that have an everlasting impact and may consume every ounce of the holder’s being. Of course, they may not all consist of these negative memories. Sometimes, although seemingly rare, nonfiction can illuminate the beauty of this world. But these memories are not about beauty; rather, they focus on the ugliness that surrounds us. The ugliness that seems never to leave.
I will continue to favor the escape that fiction offers. However, as my time with Kudzu progresses and I explore the memories of my fellow students, I believe my appreciation for the truth in nonfiction will only grow stronger.
Casey Drayer is a junior at Florida State University pursuing her bachelor’s degree in Editing, Writing, and Media with a minor in Business. This is her first semester as a part of the Kudzu Review team, but she is also a photographer for FSView and the English Department. Casey spends the majority of her days wrapped in a blanket with her cat, playing cozy games or reading books.
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